Don Vargas didn’t flinch at the gun aimed at his chest. Instead, he let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head slowly. “So this is who you are,” he said. His voice echoed in the chamber, calm but laced with venom. “You speak of mercy, yet your hands are stained with blood. Do you think you’re better than me? Better than Nico? No, Carlos. You carry the Vargas blood. That makes you the same.” Carlos’ grip on the pistol tightened, his voice a growl. “No. That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve killed men who deserved it. Traitors. Monsters. Not children. Not innocents. I won’t become like you.” His father leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Don’t pretend you’re some savior. You killed your cousin. You killed my brother. And now you point a gun at your own father. What makes you different from me, from every Vargas before you?” Carlos’ jaw clenched. His words came out like fire through clenched teeth. “Because I know the difference between power and cruelty. You don’t.”
Maya sat very still, Carlos’s words washing over her like waves too heavy to stand against. She once again felt the ache in her chest, the sharp sting of guilt for doubting him. Star’s cries, the picture of Carlos holding her lifeless body by the sea—it was almost too much. Her lips parted, but no words came. She wanted to tell him thank you again, she wanted to tell him she loved him, but all that escaped was a trembling whisper: “You carried me back from death…” He looked at her then, and in his eyes she saw everything he wasn’t saying—the sleepless nights, the endless burden, the choices he had made not just for himself, but for her and Star. Maya swallowed hard, tears brimming again, but she forced herself to nod. “Go on,” she said softly. “Tell me everything.” Carlos exhaled, bracing himself, and then his voice dropped lower, edged with steel. “After you were safe in the hospital, with Manuel and Star by your side… I knew my time was running out. Nico’s death wasn’t g
Carlos gently pulled Maya’s arms from around his neck and guided her down onto the chair. His hands lingered for a moment, brushing over hers, before he lifted his thumb to wipe away the tears streaking her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough, as though the words had been clawing at his throat for too long. He sat beside her, his head bowed slightly. “I never meant for you to misunderstand me. I never meant to hurt you. Everything I’ve done was to protect you.” Maya shook her head stubbornly, fresh tears falling. “No… I don’t want an apology. I don’t want words. I only want you to stay. Don’t send me away, Carlos. Don’t push me out of your life.” He closed his eyes briefly, the ache in her voice cutting deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. “Maya, I thought I was doing what was best. For you. For Star. I thought...” But before he could finish, Maya rose suddenly, her movements driven by desperation. She slid onto his lap, straddling him, her arms locked tight a
Maya’s heart skipped. She and Carlos both froze, staring at each other as if Star's question had been a gunshot. Then Maya forced a small smile, turning toward her sister. “Don Vargas was a villain, Star,” she said softly, her hand brushing through the girl’s hair. “A bad man, the kind you shouldn’t even talk about.” Star frowned, confused, but nodded slowly, accepting the answer. Maya’s eyes flicked back to Carlos. For a beat, their gazes held, silent words passing between them. Then she looked away, her chest tightening with an unease she tried to ignore. The drive back to Carlos’s house was quiet afterward, between Maya and Carlos. Star hummed softly in the backseat, kicking her legs, while Maya sat rigid in the passenger seat. She kept glancing sideways at Carlos...at his set jaw, at the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes, and most of all, at the ring glinting on his finger when it caught the light. She told herself not to jump to conclusions, not after everyt
THREE MONTHS LATER The soft hiss of oxygen filled the hotel room, each mechanical breath keeping Maya tethered to life. The pale light from the lamp painted her skin in fragile shades, a woman caught between life and death. The monitor beside her beeped steadily, yet even that rhythm seemed uncertain, as if it were waiting for her permission to continue. Behind her closed eyes, Maya drifted in fragments of memory... the forest swallowing her footsteps, Nico’s voice snarling like a whip, the cold gleam of a gun aimed at her head. Then the drop... the violent crash of water as the cliff swallowed her whole. She remembered sinking, the river tossing her as if determined to tear her apart. In that black silence, she had thought she’d reached the end. Her lashes fluttered. Her hand twitched against the sheets. “Doctor! Doctor! She’s moving!” The cry was sharp, filled with desperation...and familiarity. Maya strained to follow it. Her eyes flickered open, light flooding her visio
Back in the clearing, Carlos lay with his eyes shut, fighting exhaustion, until a scream cut through the still morning. His head snapped up. "Maya." The name thundered through his mind. He was on his feet in seconds, scanning the forest, heart pounding. The sound had echoed, bouncing between the trees, but he didn’t care. He ran, chasing the voice, refusing to let it fade. Maya’s legs felt like they were made of lead, but she kept running. Each breath tore at her lungs, hot and ragged. Behind her, Nico’s voice rose above the sound of rushing blood in her ears. “This time, you won’t get away from me.” She stumbled onto the edge of a cliff, the roar of water swelling beneath her. Leaning forward, she saw nothing but churning, unforgiving currents. The drop was dizzying. One wrong move, and she’d be swallowed whole. Turning back, she saw him. Nico was moving toward her, his hand pressed against his neck where a makeshift cloth was still tied, the fabric soaked through with fres